Wake Up
by Arrowroi77
Summary: The Avengers? They don't exist. In this world, superheroes are nothing more than a made up fantasy. The Avengers are just a made up world in the minds of six patients in Ward M of Shield's psychiatric hospital by the names of Banner, Rogers, Stark, Odinsen, Rushman, and Barton. There's a lot about their condition the staff still haven't figured out. That's where Coulson comes in.
1. Chapter 1

From the outside, it looked like a prison. Ask anyone, it pretty much was.

As soon as Dr. Phil Coulson stepped out of his red car, he had to double check the address stamped on the envelope in his hand to make sure he was at the right place.

"This is a hospital?" He muttered to the envelope, as if it could answer his question. He looked from the paper to the sign at the gate entrance then back to the paper.

There is no sign of life, barely any vegetation or animals. It's dead silent outside the hospital, where it's all stone walls surrounded by gates that reach about 20 feet high, lined with barbed wire. It looks like a prison, and could be mistaken for one if it wasn't for the deeply etched lettering on the tombstone-looking sign at the entrance that read: Shield Psychiatric Hosp. State of New York Dept of Human Services.

"This is the place," he confirmed to himself with a nod and got back in the car; he drove through the gate and to the hospital center. He parked right in front of the hospital doors; pulled the keys out of the ignition as he stepped out of the car, grabbed his suitcase from the floor behind the driver's seat, and pressed the lock button, which was followed by a double-beep. "I guess it's okay to park there."

Just as he was about to knock on the doors, they opened. Behind them, a woman. "Maria Hill," she introduced herself with a nod. "The hospital's been expecting you."

"I'm not late am I?" He asked humorously, smiling kindly and offering his hand while taking off his sunglasses with the other. She didn't look too friendly about the gesture but took it anyway. It was a short handshake. "Phil Coulson."

"I know." Of course she knew who he was, she worked here, and he had called ahead; what else would Coulson expect. She stepped aside, back against the door, to allow the man through. Once Coulson was inside she promptly bolted the door; regulation he supposed.

It was a long walk through the hall before they reached the second pair of doors, and Coulson had to ask, "Where are all the patients?"

"You're about to meet them, it's break time," Hill answered, pushing open one of the thick double doors.

Coulson didn't expect the sudden commotion to hit him like it did, it had been so quiet behind the doors. As soon as he crossed the double doors, noise came from all directions, he heard a woman crying, some men yelling and a few nurses scurrying about. It was easy to distinguish the patients in the dull gray colored-jumpsuit from the staff, who wore a black uniform with the hospital logo over the heart.

But the first thing that grabbed his attention was the young muscular blond being strapped to a stretcher.

"I'm a World War II war veteran! I told you that!" He yelled, desperately trying to get someone to listen to him to no avail as four men held him down, and another attempted to talk to him instead of listen. All this Coulson observed before quickly turning his head to the brunet standing in the corner with a nurse attempting to coax him out.

"Nothing works here, the medication doesn't work. I hate this place." The brunet kept saying, keeping to himself and appearing to make himself smaller. He was hunched over, staring at the wall, rubbing his hands together and repeating the same line: _Nothing works here, the medication doesn't work. I hate this place._ Over and over again.

Coulson turned back to the blond, who he didn't hear anymore, and realized the staff had injected him with something to help the struggling man fall asleep and they were rolling him away and through another pair of double doors.

"Barton, get down from there!"

Coulson quickly turned when he heard Maria yell at this Barton guy. He followed Ms. Hill's gaze up to the top of a barred window, the kid hanging at the top by his mere fingertips had quite a hold on the metal bar that framed the window. It would have to take someone with a large amount of upper body strength to pull himself up to the top.

While Coulson was fascinated by the level of skill put into the feat, Hill was busy chewing out the patient who obviously could care less about what she had to say.

"Now, Barton." She ordered after threatening him with taking away his privileges.

"Here, let me." Coulson stepped in. Hill gave him a questioning look. Coulson smiled in reassurance, "I've got this."

"He's all yours." She said, leaving the two so that she could attend to another patient that just came through.

"Tony, why am I not surprised." He heard her say.

Coulson returned his gaze back up at his monkey. "That's quite some height you've got there, I'm impressed. But I think you're getting tired," he noted noticing the young man's biceps quiver with strain. The only response he got was a judgemental glare.

"Barton, right?" Coulson continued anyway, keeping his voice leveled, standing right beneath the man. "Hi, I'm Phil Coulson. We haven't met, I'm new here." Coulson stopped short, watching the man closely. He recognized it almost immediately. The man was lip reading, his eyes were trained on Coulson lips and he had not once turned his head or his concentration.

"Barton? Can you hear me?" Coulson asked, receiving a wide-eyed look in response. "I'll take that as a no."

"Do you want to come down, so we can talk, maybe?"

The man shook his head. It was the first real act of communication Coulson has received from this man. It made him smile. Barton frowned in confusion.

"Alright, alright, that's fine. We can talk like this." Coulson smiled again, folding his hands together. "How old are you, Barton?"

"Clint."

Coulson's eyes widened this time, "Excuse me?"

"My name is _Clint_."

This caused the older man to smile again, "Nice to meet you Clint."

He noticed the man visibly flinch.

"What's wrong Clint?"

Clint clenched his jaw, staring cold and hard at the new guy.

"I'm sorry if I offended you in anyway," Coulson said slowly, wanting to stay on good terms with this blond.

The man slipped down from the bar like a firefighter, although with a lot more grace, similar to that of a gymnast. To Coulson's relief, Barton landed on his feet without injury.

"Please don't do that again, nearly gave me a heart attack."

"You're not playing this game, not you Coulson. Please tell me you're not in on this," he pleaded. Clint stood no more than three feet away from the man who had a look of confusion thrown upon his features.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What game?"

Clint looked about ready to pounce. A wrong move could set him off, and Coulson knew this man was probably stronger than him in muscle. Yet, all he did was lean forward and speak a few words. "Get me out."

Coulson stared in bewilderment at the man, unable to match those intense eyes, which never rested.

"You got him down, good job." Hill popped up from behind him, before Coulson got a chance to respond to Barton's plea for help.

"Uh, yeah. He's not that bad once you get to know him," Coulson managed a smile, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

Hill hummed in accordance with his words. "Good to hear, he's a part of the unit you've been assigned to." She gestured to some of the larger staff for assistance, they came immediately.

"Come on Barton, back to your room. No more recreation for today."

Coulson wished the man wouldn't struggle. It was hard to watch, the blond looked able to fight but ultimately outnumbered and made quite a show of himself as the guards had to pin him to the ground, face facing the floor. Hill kneeled in front of him, using a commanding tone, "You can't hit anyone Barton. Those are the rules. No hitting. Do you understand?"

She didn't get the response she wanted from Coulson could tell.

"Do you understand?"

The man continued to struggle on the floor though held firmly with his arms behind his back, legs pressed down, and a hand keeping his head down. Coulson couldn't seem to move from the scene, as though his shoes were glued to the floor.

"Alright Barton, you've got a choice. The easy way or the painful way, we're going to have to sedate you. Now you can take the pill and we can let this go, or we can use the needle and take your free time privileges."

He whined and kept fussing around, his face had turned red from attempting to resist the guard's hand on his head. He seemed to be calming down as soon as he noticed the woman beside Hill carrying a bottle, he knew what it meant. "Alright, alright, I'll take the pill."

Hill nodded to the nurse beside her who handed her the container. Coulson watched with horror.

Clint opened his mouth as Hill fed the tablet to him, then the glass of water. Everyone seemed relieved as the tension died down in the main room.

In the next split second, Clint spat out the water (along with the pill) in Hill's direction, managing to spray her by a bit and he broke out laughing. Coulson had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

"That's it," she said angrily. She nodded to one of the staff members holding down the patient. He pulled out a syringe and stuck it on the exposed skin. It worked instantaneously, the man began to drowse and soon enough, he was out.

"Was that really necessary?" Coulson asked Hill, as he watched two men carry off Barton through the same double doors he saw the muscular blond wheeled out of.

"They have to know who's in charge, otherwise they won't respect you." She turned to face him, "You can't let them walk over you."

"Is he deaf?"

"Yes. But how did you-?"

"I saw him reading my lips." Coulson said sadly, now understanding why he had a hard time following orders. Hill didn't look as sympathetic.

"He pulled out his hearing-aids again," she sighed in frustration. "I don't get it, they're not even visible if you're not looking, I haven't figured out why he keeps taking them out. Now I have to find them. I can't wait to see where he's hid them this time. Excuse me."

Coulson watched as she stalked off, interested in following her to see if she could use his help. He felt bad about standing idly to the side as the scene from earlier took place right in front of him. He should have done something.

"We need to make it louder in here, it's too quiet."

Coulson tried not to jump as the firm sarcastic voice that came from behind him suddenly out of nowhere. He turned around to see a man with an... eyepatch. Artistic touch?

"Nick Fury," the eyepatch man offered a hand. "Head of this hospital."

"Nice to meet you," Coulson responded in kind. "I'm-"

"I know who you are."

Coulson shrugged. The man gestured in front of him, with an open palm.

"Walk with me, Dr. Coulson."

"Okay."

"There are four psychiatric units in this facility. You'll be stationed to work with those behind that door." They were headed in the direction of the same double doors Coulson saw them take two patients through, and the same doors that Hill went through when she left.

"We have some interesting characters here, I think you'll take a particular interest to Ward M."

"What's in Ward M?"

"Our superheroes."

"Very funny, sir."

Coulson stopped walking when Fury did.

"I'm not joking. These people are broken. For the most part, they're here for life. Ward M houses our facility's superheroes, or at least, those who truly believe they are superheroes."

Coulson nodded. Fury continued.

"Let me be clear, there are no such things as superheroes. Do not encourage it," Fury warned, staring Coulson down right outside the double doors with a sign overheard that read "Ward M."

"Tell me Coulson, why are you here?"

"I want to help people."

"Welcome to the family."


	2. Chapter 2

It was brisk, the tour. Doctor Fury made sure to keep it quick and to the point. Even then, Coulson absorbed every detail the man with the eyepatch said, cataloguing it for later reference. The head doctor had told him it was alright to loosen up a bit, and Coulson considered it. But the atmosphere was unlike any hospital Coulson's ever worked at. It was tense and held a puzzling feeling; he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was just yet.

Ward M turned out to be a long room housing a row of beds (six he counted), separated by adjustable black curtains, which stood out from the all the white. At least there was a touch of privacy.

"Not bad. It's better than I expected."

"And what exactly were you expecting, Coulson?" The head doctor asked curiously.

"I don't know… metal bars, cells, shackles, the whole medieval theme." Coulson noticed the director didn't appreciate his humor.

Two of the six beds were currently occupied, one held the handsome blond from the stretcher earlier and the other, Coulson's little monkey, Clint. Both were out cold, knocked by the medicine. The room was lit by ceiling light for there were no windows in this unit. Coulson assumed there weren't any windows in any other unit, and that the main center was the only room with windows patients were allowed to roam in during break time.

"Tell me about the patients, Doctor Fury." Coulson insisted, despite holding a file on each of the six patients. Fury had handed it to him just minutes earlier.

The head doctor spun around and paused for a moment before answering.

"Patients Banner, Stark, Rogers, Odinsen, Rushman and Barton share a very... _peculiar_ condition. They have an undifferentiated type of schizophrenia, and there's a lot about their conditions that we still don't understand. But over the past few years they've developed some sort of collective delusion."

Fury shook his head, and gave a light dry chuckle.

"They believe they're some type of heroes; The Avengers, they call themselves. Both together and individually they face overblown, grand conflicts against an assortment of enemies: human, alien, monsters, gods, you name it…"

Fury was done talking, and left without a word more, leaving Coulson alone with the six patient profiles in hand and the two passed out men. And that was the last Coulson saw of the man for a long time. Coulson lifted the chair by the door and carried it past Clint, whose bed was closest to the door, and over by the mysterious blond's bedside, which was farthest from the door. It was strange, seeing the man so calm and asleep, when just earlier he was eagerly fighting to sit upright. It took four men to hold him down as Coulson recalled.

The slight rise and fall of the man's chest was enough to put Coulson at ease. He shuffled through the profiles in his hand until he came across the one with the paperclipped picture that resembled the man in front of him. It read: ROGERS, Steve.

"Nice to meet you Steve." Coulson muttered, placing the files on his lap. Steve looked healthy, physically fit and able. For all Coulson knew, this man could be on an Olympic athlete for any sport. It made Coulson curious as to what Steve did before being admitted. He sighed and got up. There was no telling until the man woke up and Coulson thought it best to let him rest.

On his way out of Ward M, he paused by Clint, who was also sleeping, and wondered what the man could have meant by his words just an hour earlier. Coulson was aware it could have been disorientation or something of the like, and he could have dismissed it. But Coulson couldn't. Those eyes… Clint had recognized him in a strange and unsettling way.

Coulson tossed the black uniform Fury gave him in his locker and returned to the front desk by the main center, where the "well-behaved" patients got to spend their break time while being monitored by the staff. The front desk contained a glass barrier between the staff and the patients; it was similar to a command center, just, a bit smaller and with much less tech. Off to the side was but one computer, a few file cabinets, and shelves filled with prescription drugs.

From his seat at the main center desk, he could see Ward M's doors. Coulson observed the life around him in the main center for a while. There were two elderly men playing chess in the corner, which made Coulson smile softly, a redheaded woman reading some form of literature, and the same brunet with glasses from earlier just standing there looking lost, not speaking to anyone.

Coulson shuffled through the profiles of the patients in Ward M. He picked out Rogers' file, just to look at the picture again.

Steve looked like a different man than the one Coulson saw when he first got here, so strained and stressed. The picture was the opposite. While Rogers wasn't smiling, he wasn't frowning either. His blue eyes were bright with life and he had an air of confidence about him. Coulson checked the clock and put down the file, which had a SHIELD logo on the cover. It seemed just about everything had the SHIELD logo printed on it; someone must have went wild with the merchandise labeling.

He was tired of reading the words disorganized behavior, agitation, social isolation, compulsive behavior, disorientation and other long words his eyes only skimmed over on different sheets of paper and in the end he simply tossed them aside lazily.

Clint's last words to him stuck with Coulson. Get me out. He rested his chin in his hands as his elbows rested on the desk, and he sat there staring just straight ahead at nothing. It was troubling.

"Something the matter, doctor?"

Coulson blinked back to reality to see Maria Hill standing in front of him.

"Nurse Hill," he said, already getting up from his chair.

"If you're not too busy staring at the wall, come with me. I could use you in the emergency room."

"Sure, what's going on?"

"First thing you should know, before patients are admitted to the psychiatric units, they are taken to the psychiatric emergency room. That's where we're headed now, keep your head on."

They walked out of the main center, nearing the front of the hospital. Coulson was surprised he missed these doors right by the entrance. The ER.

As they approached the ER, Hill began to explain to him. "Tony Stark has been on a leave of absence for the last three months. He's admitting himself again today. His friend, Colonel James Rhodes, is here with him. I need you to speak with him, tell him everything is fine while I work with Stark."

Coulson nodded, and braced himself for what was to come.

The first thing he registered was the screams. Behind these doors he could hear cries of pain and anguish. He could tell a lot of people weren't happy. Then Hill opened the door. Coulson thought he'd seen the worst of it. _How wrong he was._ He would laugh at his past self.

"I want to get out of here! I want to get out of here!" A young woman cried hysterically till she was red in the face. A staff member and a nurse were holding her down, even as she was already strapped to a wheelchair. "LET GO OF ME!"

Just a few glances away, a man with shoulder length hair was being strapped to a rolling bed. His body would contract and then jolt outward, in an earnest attempt to get up and out of the arms holding him down. "I do not need help! Go away!" He yelled between his struggles.

"Most patients arrive in critical condition, even spend days in the emergency room." He heard Hill say as he absently continued to follow her through the mess of patients and staff.

"Get away from me before I claw your head off, bub," growled an angry man. _Wait, did he just snarl?_ Coulson looked for the source of the man spitting out threats but was abruptly pulled by the arm by Hill who smacked a clipboard to his chest.

"Head on." She reminded him. He ran a hand down his face. _Come on, Phil. Hold it together, _he told himself.

It was a madhouse. The emergency room was an entirely different story than he expected, and definitely not in his purview.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Coulson skimmed the file—the one attached to the clipboard—of the man Tony Stark. Fury did mention a Stark when debriefing him on Ward M's patients. Coulson flipped through his own papers until he found the one he was looking for. Sure enough, the name also appeared on his roster for Ward M. Shuffling the papers back together, Coulson continued to follow Hill through the ER. They finally made it to the other end of this madness, closer to the check-in office.

Hill walked up to two men, conversing with each other. She shifted a foot to the side, leaving room for Coulson. "Gentlemen, thank you for waiting," she said, grabbing their attention. She nodded once to each. Precise, automatic gesture.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Coulson." He introduced himself, offering a hand to the man who resembled the one in the paper-clipped photo attached to the file. Coulson half expected him not to take it, as many people here at the hospital tend to shy away or look at him suspiciously; however, the man surprised him with a huge smile and firm business-like grip, which pulled the two men closer.

"Tony Stark." He winked and laughed freely. He captivated him with a winning smile. He had one of those smiles with a quality of undoubtable confidence in it; one that did not fit the profile of a hospital patient faced with months of incarceration. He wore a long sleeve black t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of sepia-tinted sunglasses rested atop his head.

"Perhaps you've heard of me," Tony said, as though he were a big deal somehow or hinting at a past encounter, either way, Coulson failed to recall.

"Sorry, bit of a hermit to be honest." He shrugged though swore he saw a look of disappointment and confusion flash in Tony's eyes for a brief second before he quickly recovered, standing tall and shaking it off, as though it didn't matter.

"He once owned a small business and now he thinks he's famous."

"I _am_ famous, Rhodey." Tony defended though cheerfully. He threw an arm over his friend's shoulders, and introduced him to Coulson. "Doctor, this is my buddy Rhodey. He'll have a room set up right next to mine."

Rhodey laughed, a bit uneasy. "Very funny, Tony." He brushed off the arm and took Coulson's hand. "The name's Rhodes. James Rhodes. And I'm only here to drop off my friend," he said, as though he needed to clarify.

"Bond fan?" Coulson assumed, shaking the colonel's hand. This earned him a grin, and Rhodey looked down momentarily to hide his embarrassment.

"Pleasure to meet you, doctor."

"And you, colonel."

Hill had pulled Tony off to the side at this time, discussing hospital rules and regulations no doubt from the look on Tony's disinterested face. He seemed far more content eyeing the soon-to-be patients in the ER, observing with a scrutinizing eye. Coulson found it hard to read Tony's expression. Just then, something Hill had said caused Tony to return his attention to her and Coulson lost view of his face, no longer able to interpret the conversation.

Coulson then realized that the colonel had spoken to him and was expecting an answer.

"Sorry, just a bit distracted-"

"Looks like you're going to a funeral." The colonel had a wary look, eyeing the doctor who wore a formal black suit and tie, unlike the other staff members who worked at the hospital. "All suited up like that."

Coulson didn't take it offensively. He laughed quietly in an attempt to make the man a bit more comfortable. "Yes, well I only just got here today. It's my first day. And between you and me, I'm not a fan of the uniform." This was true. The uniform was still sitting in his locker. Coulson cleared his throat. "I heard about your friend Tony. He was discharged three months ago. Can you tell me why he's back?"

At first Coulson didn't think the man would say a word, he looked troubled and kept glancing back at Tony who was still with Hill. Finally, Rhodes sighed and began to relay the situation.

"He's been going on and on about this guy called the Mandarin, and Tony gets anxious anytime he thinks that guy's around."

"Anxious about the... Mandarin?"

"Yeah, this Chinese villain I've never even heard of yet Tony keeps telling me to watch out for this 'terrorist.' He reminds me to look out every time before I head off to work. I'm afraid to leave him alone," said Rhodes, shaking his head. "He's scared. Bad.

"Whenever the TV's on it's bad news or when I'm using the phone I'd get looks from him because he thinks the phones are tapped or something.

"I don't get it, I was hoping he'd get better, you know? When I got him back, it was like seeing my old friend again… he stopped babbling about the 'battle of New York' and everything seemed normally for a while... but I kept losing him. I can't take care of him twenty-four seven or leave him alone at his place… And he's smart. He told me he didn't want to be a burden, even though I told him he's not, so he called the Hill this morning, and here we are again."

Coulson nodded, understanding his concern. "Don't worry, Colonel. I'll make sure Tony gets the proper care he needs," he assured the man with a soft smile. He got a nod in response and some form of a thank you.

He joined Hill beside Tony to get a better hear of things. The volume in the room still hasn't settled. Many of the incoming patients refused to cooperate despite the staff's best efforts.

"Looks like we're all set here. Sorry for having to make you wait in this hell hole. Doctor Coulson is here to escort you, be good Tony." Hill turned from Tony to Coulson. "He's all yours, Ward M."

"Thank you, Nurse Hill." He watched as she broke away and settled next to the clerk's desk, discussing admittance stuff.

Before Coulson could turn around and say, 'let's go,' a hand clamped over his shoulder and he turned to see the ever-smiling Tony Stark.

"Ward M?" It occurred to Stark he wasn't getting his own room. He didn't seem to mind. "Don't worry, doc. I know my way around."

He had an eager look in his eye. One that read: 'I'm so ready to get out of here.' Coulson didn't blame him. The ER reeked of depression. Coulson counted his years till retirement if he had to visit this place again every day from here forth. Luckily, visits to the ER weren't covered in his salary, which meant he shouldn't be required to return and Coulson hoped this was a one-time thing.

Tony had gone and left Coulson in wonder. The patient made it clear he had no intention of walking alongside the doctor. Already by the doors, Tony glanced back once, over his shoulder, just to signal a goodbye to his friend. He had an interesting choice in goodbye, throwing his hand up in a lazy salute and letting it fall thereafter. This made Rhodey chuckle. And Tony disappeared from the ER.

Coulson figured he'd better go after him. Turning to the colonel, Coulson nodded respectfully, "Better go after him."

Rhodey returned the nod. "Take care of him." It wasn't so much a plea as it was a warning, though he showed faith in Coulson. He suddenly clutched his arm, remembering something and held Coulson close before he could part and said in a low voice, "He doesn't trust Shield. A fresh face will help but he's tight as a vault with no key when it comes to talking about personal matters." Then he let go. Coulson noted the colonel's words under consideration and nodded his goodbye.

Hill, still busy with the clerk, somehow noticed Tony's departure—nothing escaped her watchful eyes—and signaled Coulson to follow. He gave her a thumbs up and quickly went through the double doors before he could see Hill's disapproving stare for his lack of professionalism.

Coulson stepped into the empty hall. Not a sound. Tony must have made it to the main center already. Did he run? The hall took a good minute to cover and Coulson soon reached the double doors that led to the main center. These doors are locked. They're always locked. Coulson subconsciously laid a hand on his temporary badge key and looked around. No one.

"What the heck?" He breathed, baffled, and looked around some more. There's no way Tony could have gone through without a badge. And he couldn't be back at the ER, Coulson would've seen him pass. So, where was he?

* * *

**AN:** So sorry this is late. Been busy with work and school but I have a path for this story I want to see complete. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, follows and for bearing with me!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** You have been incredibly patient and I am eternally grateful. I haven't given up on this story! Thank you for sticking with me I know it's been well over a year since I last updated. Keep an eye out for more chapters.

* * *

Coulson waved his badge over the scanner and the door unlocked with a resounding click. He pulled the door open. Eyes darting from one patient to the next, searching for the man in his charge until finally—Stark wasn't exactly hiding. He wasn't hiding at all. Coulson watched as the man made himself right at home, flirting and engaging, walking from one group of patients to the next, reacquainting himself with old colleagues and casting a grin at old enemies. At this point the entire hospital was made aware of his return, and this raised a few mixed feelings in the crowd. Not wasting a second, Coulson charged forward but didn't get very far.

"Hold it right there, mister," called a voice from behind, enunciating each word with unneeded dramatic emphasis. The sort of line you'd hear in a movie when the hero got caught.

Coulson spun around.

A short man, in a suit rather than the hospital staff uniform, approached and stopped Coulson from passing through the double doors, obstructing the doctor's path.

"Are you a volunteer? Staff? Visiter?" He questioned, each suggestion more accusing than the first. "You're not wearing a badge or a sticker—are you with the WHO?"

"The what?"

"No, the WHO. World Health Organization?"

"Right, yeah... I mean no!" Coulson said quickly. "I'm new, actually. First day," he smiled apologetically and held up the temporary badge Hill handed to him in the midst of the hurricane-like first hour from earlier. He introduced himself. "Phil Coulson, I'm the doctor assigned to Ward M."

The whole demeanor of the small man's countenance changed in an instant; scowling features flushed from his face and were soon replaced with twinkling eyes of admiration and a welcoming smile. "Coulson, I have heard of you. Love your work," the man began eagerly, reaching to shake the other man's hand to which Coulson did not object but kept a wary eye on Stark who was a considerable distance away.

"Eric Koenig. Administration. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I heard you were arriving today, and lost track of time. I have your badge and effects on my desk. Come on, I'll help get you situated."

"Actually," Coulson interceded, and could visibly see the man's face change to one of confusion, "I have to attend to a patient, just about to lose him." Coulson edged around Koenig, muttering an apology. "I'll be sure to find you later, and—" Tony Stark just disappeared from sight. "Be right back."

Koenig understood, chuckling. "Oh Tony Stark, right? Ward M. Heard he was coming in, quite a rascal and a pain in the glutes. Be careful around that one!"

But Coulson was long gone by then and did not hear the remainder of Koenig's warning, losing himself in the community center, filled with patients and staff alike. But he could not find the one patient assigned to him.

_Early retirement isn't so bad_, Coulson thought to himself, _No shame in that_. How hard could it be to find one man dressed in slacks and a black t-shirt? The contrast of his attire to the patients' wardrobe should be painfully obvious and stick out like sore thumb. The last thing he needed was Hill showing up and catching him in this conundrum. So he kept an eye out for the superintendent nurse as well as Stark—to avoid unwanted bad marks. Coulson decided he would have serious words with one, Tony Stark, for making him look bad on his first day.

Following the sudden outbreak of genuine laughter—an odd sound and uncommon—Coulson found his man. Stark, posed on the arm of a worn-out couch, spoke gingerly with a familiar face. Coulson did a double take on that face and recognized the woman as none other than Natasha Rushman. She happened to be the only woman in Ward M under Coulson's charge, but had her own room. Coulson shifted his attention back to Stark.

Walking right up to the man, Coulson thought up a hundred different ways to scold him but failed to bring up one point in the confrontation. Instead, he asked the burning question that had singed into his mind from the moment the patient ditched him.

"Mr. Stark." The man in question looked up. "How did you bypass the security?"

"Some staff guy let me in," Tony replied casually, without a slip of hesitation and continued talking to one of the other patients. _Oh he's good_, Coulson thought, _I'm better_—and saw right past the man's lie.

"Huh," Coulson hummed. So that's how this was going to work. Coulson made a mental note to address this issue at a later time. At the moment, he still needed to get Stark situated. "I'm sure you're having a lovely conversation and I'd hate to tear you away, Mr. Stark. But we have guidelines I'm sure you're aware of…"

"Then don't tear me away from this lovely conversation, Doctor Coulson." Stark interrupted, casting a sideways glance at the doctor, a contagious smile growing on his lips. "I'll be there in a minute, just give us time to catch up." He wasn't asking, in fact, Stark seemed to be in control of the reigns and didn't take anything of what Coulson had to say seriously.

Coulson stood in place, dumbfounded. "Okay." He said simply, more to himself than anyone else. "So that's how you want to play." Coulson pulled the trick card. "Mr. Stark, I'm more than ready to give you your space if you're willing to give up patient privileges, which unfortunately for your case, are handled by me. This extends to break time, visits, recreational activity, and I determine your schedule. You play by my rules, everyone is happy. Simple as that."

"Go with him," Natasha encouraged, and Coulson was grateful, although her expression remained neutral and unreadable. "Don't ruin your first day back."

"Darling, it's my job to wreak havoc." Tony winked but rose to his feet anyway, giving Coulson the time of day. "Alright, chief. You win. Let's get this over with."

"Wonderful." Relieved, Coulson led the man back to Ward M. He left Stark to his own devices as the man got changed into the patient-issued outfit and out of his slacks. Tony found the bed with his clipboard and nametag, tossing his clothes over the edge carelessly, disregarding the last fragments of home. With Coulson by the door, Tony figured he could keep his sunglasses as a memento of the outside world and moved to hide the pair underneath his loose covers.

"I'm going to have to confiscate those," Coulson surprised Tony, standing behind the man, ready with a ziplock bag. "You can get them back of course when you're discharged. I'm going to need your shirt and pants too."

Handing over the sunglasses, Tony asked with a sly smile, "Do you need my underwear too or can I keep that?"

"You weren't wearing any." Coulson remained cool and casual, folding and putting away the remainder of Stark's effects in the family-sized ziplock bag.

"You take your watchdog job way too seriously," Tony grinned, folding up the sleeves on his shirt and extended his arms as soon as he was done, like a performer in a new costume. "How do I look?"

Coulson chose his next words carefully.

"Like a billionaire."


End file.
